Daemon II

Daemon II "Bronze prince" Targaryen

An original character from HOTD A study in family devotion, regret and guilt

Carrd | Memes

As you can see, I haven't been active here in a while, mostly because I wasn't feeling the muse, but also because I've been busy on my multimuse blog. So I decided to move Daemon there, so I can pay more attention to him.

[Text to A ♡]: On my way!

It was only one girl, the youngest of the servants, who dared gather the courage to speak to the prince in private. It was late; the castle was quiet, and all should have been asleep. Trembling, she led him to a shadowed corner of the hall, her voice barely above a whisper.

"You asked about Angie, and I… I don’t know where she is," she began, her words shaky as her eyes dropped to the floor. The fear in her hunched shoulders was palpable. "But she was suffering greatly in your absence, your grace." She hesitated, unable to bring herself to describe the details of that suffering. She had witnessed it once, and the memory still haunted her. She had been powerless to stop it, powerless to help Angelica escape her captivity.

"I just remember a stranger… he visited the castle more than ten days ago. He mentioned a place in Braavos where people go to find peace. A place to end all suffering…" The maid trailed off, uncertainty in her voice. She couldn’t be certain Angelica had gone there, but the look in her eyes before she vanished said she had reached her breaking point.

"The name he mentioned was the House of Black and White."

The news hit him like an arrow, but he fails to capture the fear on the girl's demeanor. Maybe because the war seem to be slowly covering Daemon in a layer of indifference, or perhaps because he knew they were all living in a constant state of fear.

"I see..." His voice is a whisper and the curve on his lips isn't enough to make a smile. "Thank you." The prince says simply, distancing from the servant and walking towards his old room in the Red Keep.

His mind was distant, while his fingers play with the star necklace he carried at all times. So this was the consequences of his choices... Maybe princes were not mean to be happy, they didn't deserve it. He was sent away to marry someone else, and he had no right to expect she would be waiting for his return, not knowing if he ever would. But it pained him nonetheless, to imagine how alone she must've felt.

Go on Anon and tell me your muses thoughts on mine.

He thought he would be able to leave before she found out, that he wouldn't have to say goodbye, but here they were, facing each other. Daemon wish he knew how to be like his twin, how to never remove the mask of coldness, but no mater how hard he tried, her eyes were his weakness.

"No." His voice is not louder than a whisper. "No, it was't." He wanted to hold her, cup her face, never to leave. But he knew his duties as a Targaryen prince, and he knew this was the way he could keep her safe. "I love you Angelica. And I wish we could fly away, live a life together." And if he indulge to such feelings, he would never be able to leave.

Send ♦ for a drabble of my muse dying in your muse’s arms.

His heart seem to have stopped. The world around him spinning out of control and he didn't wait for Vermithor to fully land before sliding from the cell and running towards her.

She shouldn't be there, she should be somewhere safe, he should be there to protect her. Daemon can't even utter any words, it's hard to breathe as he tries to get her up while life leaves her. Angelica's blood stain his hands and the armor as he holds to her body. He feels that his chest was about to burst, but no tears cloud his vision.

"No, gods no, please." Daemon takes a few strands of hair out of her face, clinging to the hope that she would open her eyes. "Angie! Angie, please look at me. Wake up, please." He embraces her, caressing her hair while his eyes scout the horizon as if asking for a miracle. "Wake up, please." Vermithor roars angrily, shaking the ground beneath them

"Father, it hatched!" The boy gasped, tears of joy shining in his wide eyes as he held up a small, silver-and-white dragon cradled carefully in his hands. "It finally hatched!" His voice was filled with disbelief and excitement, as though even holding the tiny creature wasn’t enough to make him fully believe it had happened.

Daemon had just arrived from a long journey on Vermithor, he had been in Dorne for almost a week in a diplomatic mission in name of the Queen. His heart longing for home and body begging for rest.

But the exhaustion seem to wash away as Aizel calls upon him, the happiness in his voice making Daemon smile as he caress Vermithor's scales, kneeling before his son to get a closer look at the hatchling.